Fishing Shack

One would have to be
Seventy or more
To remember
When fishing shacks
Lined the shore
In an array
of Tarpaper hues
Of reds, and blacks and blues.
It was a common sight to see
At least one, two or three
Shacks tucked away In a cove or bay
Or wherever
A North Shore cliff fell away
To provide a landing or a stair
For a dory or a load of fishing ware.
You could see fishermen
Out on the lake
In gray and heavy weather
Laying their nets
Without thought or fear
That their demise was near.
And it wasn’t the weather,
or the stormy sea
Or lack of zeal
That did them in…
Mostly it was
The lamprey eel
That was to bring
A change in the scheme of things.
The fishermen,
The dorys,
The shacks….
Are gone now,
And the coves and bays
Are empty,
And its a shame,
For it was the end of an era
And it will never be the same.